Orie Chef Novels & Stories

“Miss Mira has a certification from a three-star Michelin chef.” Mira chuckles shyly. I roll my eyes. Mrs Ford gasps. "You mean the same chef that taught Alex?” “Yes, ma’am,” Mira replies. “Monsieur Chef Pierre Laurent always said Alex was the best student he ever taught. Alex even got a personal recommendation from him.” I look at Alex and pout. “Wow.” He sees me and lifts his chin proudly. "Oh." Mrs. Ford mutters. She turns to Alex.. “Why have you never cooked for me?”

Nicely done! Anthony’s eyes twinkled with mirth and love. This was indeed his woman. He said to Luke, “Ask Mr. Mozart to personally prepare a portion of blue cheese.” Waverly’s face stiffened. Mozart was the main chef of a Michelin restaurant and was then hired to become Anthony’s chef. He prepared with the finest ingredients, and just because of Charmine, Anthony would make Mozart prepare the cheap, stinky blue cheese? How...painfully triggering! At the Divine Bird’s construction site...

“Please tell me this is the call where you fake my death and fly me to an island with no screaming chefs.” Her soft laugh crackled through the speaker. “You sound terrible.” “I feel worse.” She paused. “Tell me what’s going on.” “It’s my head chef. Conrad Wells. I swear he’s on a mission to destroy me. Not my grades. Me.” I exhaled. “It’s not kitchen stress. It’s something deeper. I can feel it. The way he looks at me… like I’m not a student to him, just a reminder of someone he hates..”

I convinced Careh to introduce me to the chef and before dinner time, the chef had agreed to meet me. as I waited in the dining area outside the kitchen. I'm surprised to find out that the head chef is a man when usually all the employees are just women except the security. I can't believe I'm finally meeting a world-renowned chef, let alone one who is also extremely attractive.His eyes were bright blue, his nose had a charming distinct feature to it and his skin was caramel, making his pearly white teeth pop out nicely. "Hello chef, I'm Fleur. I love your cooking" -Gazing at his beautiful smile

When the ex-manager left, she turned her heads back to the people. “Who among you is Mr. Jonathan Reyes?” the man in the front raised his hands. “I know, you are a cousin of Ms. Reyes and she was the one who backed you up but don’t worry, I will not hold it against you. Just work honestly and you can work here until your retirement.” she said which give some relief to the chef she named. Based on the investigation two of the dishes she likes were cooked by him.

An hour had passed. “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Chloe,” the chef said, giving me a small bow of gratitude. I smiled at him. He was one of the best chefs in the country. I’d recognized him instantly from a magazine I once flipped through out of boredom. If he was here, it meant one of the council of witches had spent an enormous amount of money just to have him prepare a few dishes for this ridiculous brunch. The last server picked up the tray, and I followed him, holding my head high.

Finally, I saw Alex Davis - my goal. He wore spotless white clothes and the typical white hat with confidence, so everyone could instantly figure out he was the Chef. His eyes found me at my table and a chill ran through my body, as I knew I messed with this guy for no reason. His salad was divine. “Are you the cook?” I started before they reached the table. “I am The Chef. Alex Davis,” he corrected me, showing me he wasn’t easily scared by power and riches. “May I know what the problem is, miss?”

One by one, Ezrah peeled all the prawns for her and one by one, she ate them all. “Is there more?” Michelle asked. Ezrah looked towards the kitchen but Butler Rudolph was not too far away. He had been watching the couple from a distance in admiration. Ezrah was far from the man he knew as his boss, but he liked this Ezrah better. Butler Rudolph quickly alerted the chef, and he went to the dining room. Having been informed about the return of the woman of the house, the chef was excited to see her. “Ma’am, I’m Chef Carlo, but you can call me Carl. Did you enjoy the meal? Do you want any changes done?”

he says, holding the letter up like it’s some sort of artifact. The ripple is instant. Heads turn, whispers spread, and the massive kitchen atmosphere changes entirely. One of the chefs—a woman with silver hair, actually gasps with her hand over her mouth. “You worked for him?” she asks, looking at me like I’ve just claimed to know a unicorn personally. “Who?” I glance at Winona, who looks just as confused as I feel. Chef Valois returns, his demeanor entirely different. “You worked under Henrik LaSalle?” I blink. “Uh, I worked for Chef Thierry. Who’s Henrik LaSalle?”

The private tasting room at L’Étoile Noire sat behind a heavy curtain at the back of the main dining space. Emilia Voss and Dante Reyes had been circling each other for two years. She ran the Michelin-starred kitchen at L’Étoile Noire—thirty-six, precise, ruthless in the way only someone who had clawed her way up from line cook to executive chef could be. Tall, olive-skinned, black hair pulled into a severe knot that never loosened during service, dark eyes that missed nothing. Her chef’s whites were immaculate even at the end of a fourteen-hour shift; her knife work was surgical, her sauces legendary.